What It Takes To Be A Teacher
by Mirror and Image
Summary: Complete Iruka's had a long day with parents and rants to Kakashi on what's necessary to teach.


**What It Takes to Be a Teacher**  
Mirror and Image

* * *

Open House.

This was the twelve hour day where, after spending eight with the kids, you dawdled in your room getting it ready before quickly running out for a bowl of ramen and coming back for an hour and a half of having parents come into your precious kid-friendly room and you try to explain - no, justify - your very reason for continued existence. At least with Parent-Teacher Conferences, it was just you and one set of parents - and if you were lucky, just one parent; but no, open house took your entire class roster and upwards of doubled it as the adults all crammed into the tiny chairs in their ninja gear and business suits and glared at you, wanting to have a face attached to the name when the children started complaining. And they were _always_ complaining.

Upon reflection, Iruka decided that it should be renamed to Open Firing Squad.

Take this particular class, for example. First up where the Yamanouchi, civilian parents who looked around anxiously at the impressive ninja families and wondering if they were right to allow their son to join a ninja academy. They asked over and over what the safety regulations were, when their child would start handling lethal weapons, _if there were any deaths reported_ in the schools history, etc.

On the other end of the spectrum, you had the ever-impressive Hyuga, demanding to know why the needs of their perfect Hanabi weren't being met. It was only three weeks into term and they were already adamant that it was past time for the class to begin kunai training - Hanabi was already more than proficient at it, of course, but any _meager_ skills that he could pass on would _hopefully_ be an adequate _supplement_.

"Hyuga-_san_," Iruka said. He always made a very direct point of referring to all the ninja families with the suffix of -san, because in school they were on equal footing with all the other parents, including the petrified Yamanouchi. Most of the families didn't mind, but the Hyuga always took it as an insult. It was a miracle, in Iruka's opinion, that poor Hinata didn't inherit their holier-than-though attitude. But then, she paid every inch for that "defect."

"Hyuga-san," he said again after the family head rolled his eyes. "As I _just_ got through explaining to Yamanouchi-san, kunai training, or work with any other weapons, comes after the class has proven that they can adhere to the safety restrictions we have in place. As of right now, no one in this class is ready, and so I will wait until they are."

"If you must wait for the other children," Hyuga said, "then so be it; but you can certainly train Hanabi in private after school."

It was everything Iruka could do to keep a level, polite, and neutral voice. "I will gladly do so once she proves she can adhere to the safety restrictions. She has yet to do so." And that was putting it mildly. Oh, no, the Godly Hanabi was one of the first to say she already knew five ways to kill a person, and used that threat consistently whenever someone annoyed her. The majority of this class was composed of civilian students, and so they took the threat very seriously, and the overwhelming fear that girl generated put a wrench into many a plan. "If you still have questions I would recommend we talk about this in private. You can message me and we'll make an appointment."

Another parent raised her hand. "Iruka-san," she said in a withering tone. That she had used the suffix of -san was a blatant insult, saying that she didn't believe in him as a teacher. The Chuunin was grateful he was seated at his desk, his fist hidden underneath it as he once again dug nails into his palm. "You are going much too fast with the children. It's only three weeks into term and already my daughter is complaining that there is too much to remember and too much that is covered over the course of one day. Can't you slow down?"

"To that I say, as I said on the first day of school, that it is the student's responsibility to learn. If your daughter is having so much trouble, I would happily see her after school and give her some one-on-one attention. She should have done that in the first place, as I also said as much on the first day of school." Iruka smiled, hoping it looked reassuring, because he was about to commit murder.

"What kind of homework assignments do you give?"

"How do you grade written versus practical work?"

"What kind of skills will they be learning?"

"How do you incorporate differentiated instruction?"

"What about constructivism?"

"How do you handle children of remedial skills?"

"My son says you're always getting angry and yelling at him and the class. Do you think that helps promote a positive learning environment?"

Finally, Iruka twitched an eyebrow, the only visible sign of his irritation. "Sir," he said, "I very, very rarely get angry in class. What your child is seeing is tempered frustration because he or the class is not doing what is expected of them, and I am not of the mind of lowering my expectations in order to give any student or any class carte blanche to run wild. At a shinobi academy especially, there absolutely must be decorum amongst the students; they have to understand how dangerous these lessons are, how dangerous the line of work they have chosen is, and most of all they have to take it seriously."

"So your saying you don't want our children to have fun?" one parent accused.

"No, I'm saying I want them to act responsibly."

"That isn't what you said."

"Are you implying my child isn't responsible?"

And so on and so on and so on.

By the time the last of the parents left, it was pushing ten o'clock, and he'd been up since dawn. Oh, and tomorrow was another school day, so he would have to get up at dawn again. Iruka growled at the very thought as he took the standard ninja shortcut and simply teleported to his apartment.

He was only mildly surprised to see that the lights in his kitchenette were on, even less surprised when he saw a certain elite Jounin contorted around one of his chairs, flack jacket and one sandal off somewhere, headband covering both eyes and two cups of cold tea offered on the counter. Kakashi was breathing deeply, in the slow rhythm of sleep, but Iruka knew from experience that that meant nothing. As if in response to the observation, Kakashi asked, "Long day?"

"I think that's the understatement of the year," Iruka replied as his guest de-pretzeled himself from the chair and stretched his arms high above his head. Iruka saw bloodstains here and there, and when Kakashi lifted half his headband Iruka saw the deep lines of disturbance. The last mission, whatever it was, had been hard on him.

"I don't think I'm going to be very good company," the teacher offered, emptying the cold tea and putting on the kettle.

"I'm the one that gets to decide that," Kakashi replied. "What's got under your skin?"

Iruka let out an explosive sigh before roughly grabbing the remaining chair and sitting in it. "Education is Konoha's whipping boy," he said, sighing again. "The parents complain to me constantly that I'm going too fast, that I'm doing it wrong, that I'm too strict, too soft, too mean, unfair, you name it. The Jounin in the meantime complain that I'm doing absolutely nothing, because the kids can't throw kunai, that they don't even have basic chakra control, that they are completely unprepared - so clearly, I've been sitting on my ass the entire time twiddling my thumbs."

Kakashi sat up a little straighter, giving Iruka a more polite posture.

The Chuunin took another deep breath, releasing it more slowly this time, and tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. "Did you know that being teacher wasn't my first choice?" he asked.

"No."

"I was going to take the Jounin exam; everyone was saying I was going to ace it with flying colors. I had aspirations like every other Chuunin to become an elite Jounin, to have my name feared and respected by everyone else, to have that wonderful ability of choosing my own missions, as rumor had it. It was Sandaime-sama who told me to look into it."

Iruka grinned at the memory. "I couldn't have been more insulted. I thought he was asking me to demote myself, to degrade myself. I actually asked him what I did wrong to make him think so little of me." He straightened his head and looked at Kakashi. "He said, 'Please, reserve judgment until you've taken a few courses.' Did you know that teachers have to go back to school?"

Kakashi shook his head.

"The same way you take a test to be a Chuunin or a Jounin or an Anbu, you take a test to be a teacher. I don't think people realize just was a prospective teacher goes through. For one, you need to be well rounded - and that's why Chuunin will always be teachers. Jounin by their very nature specialize; you have the Sharingan, Kurenai has her genjutsu, Gai his taijutsu, Ibiki his interrogation techniques, etc. Chuunin, because of the variety of A and B and even C rank mission, need to be able to do everything. But a teacher not only needs to be able to do everything, but do everything with Jounin level mastery.

"Then there are the courses. Child development, child psychology, to say nothing of the actual pedagogy: lesson plans, curriculum development, the universe known as special education, classroom management. There's also the basics of theatrics, stand up comedy, and dance classes."

Kakashi tilted his head. "I'm sorry. 'Dance classes?'"

Iruka grinned, slouching slightly into his chair. "In order to be a teacher, you have to be at least partly an entertainer, because kids that that age don't have the attention span for a straight lecture like you Jounin would happily drone out. We have to be able to be creative, present things in new and different ways that will still get the necessary goals met and make the kids pass the standardized tests; we have to be flexible enough to change on a dime because a civilian kid starts crying or ninja kid threatens to kill someone. We have to get thirty kids a class mentally and emotionally ready enough to hand out kunai and _not_ loose an eye or scar a kid because of petty rivalries or jealousies or just pissing a kid off.

"We have to make sure we can be the absolute center of attention when the situation calls for it, and have enough of a presence that the kids don't slack off to chatter aimlessly when group work is assigned. Everything and everyone has to be monitored to make sure that the kids are doing what they're supposed to and that they're learning. This doesn't even get into the psychological evaluations I have to make when I'm handing off the students to be Genin or not, and my personal recommendations for team formations and assessment of their tactical abilities and specialties."

The kettle started whistling and, ever the good host, Iruka got up and poured the tea, offering a cup to Kakashi and taking a sip of his own. He'd long ago given up trying to see what was under the mask, the Jounin was simply too quick and too likely to do it when no on was looking.

"Do you think, if we switched jobs for a week, that you could handle thirty screaming five year old children with varying levels of intelligence, ability, preparation, and attention span?"

Kakashi thought about it for perhaps five seconds before saying, "Not without scarring all of them for life."

Iruka chuckled. "You're probably a bad example. What about someone like... that new Jounin, what's his name? Kuroda, what about him?"

"He's nice enough," the silver haired Jounin said.

"He wouldn't last five minutes," Iruka said with flat confidence. "Do you know why?"

Kakashi didn't answer.

"For the exact reason you said. He's nice. His first idealistic thought is that these are kids, little bodies that need to find their own directions in life; all he has to do is point. So, the first thing he'd do would be to try to be their friend. Worst mistake any new teacher could make. Kids are not your friends. The age gap is too great, your knowledge bases are too far apart, and hell even how you think is completely different. If you try to be their friend, then in order to do it you're going to listen to them and foolishly think that they are telling you the truth; that little Watanabe really does have special permission to go to the bathroom whenever he pleases, that it's okay if no work gets done today, that jumping up and down on the desk is perfectly normal. A teacher that wants to be a friend will grant favors like that left and right, and the kids instinctively know that from this poor shmuck that can get whatever they want, can do whatever they want.

"Now take someone like a Hyuga. How do you think they would be as teachers?"

"Horrible."

"Yes. Why?"

"Zero understanding of children."

"Exactly. A Hyuga would be the opposite of Kuroda. He wouldn't even try to be a friend, and in that respect he's got a leg up, but he would be an absolute dictator. It would be his way or the highway; total hard-ass who would literally whip a child into shape 'for their own good,' and not realize that the kids are spending more time being quiet for fear of his retribution than any actual learning. But, because the kids are quiet everyone thinks that a Hyuga-like teacher nets results."

Iruka sighed, sipping his tea. "You need to be in the middle. You have to set the boundaries on the first day and be a hard-ass only when they cross the boundaries. You can laugh all you want when things are going well, and if it goes well long enough you can allow one or two to cross a few feet beyond those boundaries. Some classes never get that leeway because they never understand why the boundaries are there."

"It's like a training field," Kakashi said. "You can do all your exercises and training regiments in that field with no worries; and if you're a few feet beyond it you'll probably be okay, but too far out of that field and you risk exposure to an enemy."

"Exactly," Iruka said, nodding in agreement. He noticed that Kakashi had already finished his tea at some point. "You can't let the kids out of the boundaries; you can't let them break the rules; until they understand how dangerous life outside those rules are. A kid may never ask permission to go to the bathroom in real life, but doing so trains them that they better not disappear in the middle of a fight to take a piss. They may never use the quadratic formula, may never solve equations in real life, but the process of taking a logical series of baby steps to arrive at a solution they'll use for the rest of their lives."

Kakashi's visible eye, now noticeably lighter, winked into a smile. "You're preaching to the choir, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka grinned. "I know. That's why you're such a great teacher."

"I only had three students. I don't think I could handle ninety."

Iruka grinned again, a little softer this time. "I think you could, once you got used to it."

"Want me to pop in tomorrow during class? Scare the kids witless?"

"Sure, it'll be good training for them to expect the unexpected. Come in and scare the hell out of little Hyuga Hanabi; she needs to be taken down a peg for the rest of the class to realize she isn't a ninja-god yet."

Kakashi's grinned, shadows in his mask testifying to the act. "See?" he said. "You make great company."

Iruka yawned, downing the last of his tea. "Yeah, except now it's midnight and I have to get up at dawn."

"Aw, want me to tuck you in?"

Iruka gave a flat glare even as a crimson flush filled his cheeks. "_No_, I do _not_."

The Jounin shrugged. "Mah, had to try." He got up and stretched slightly before disappearing to another room to grab his jacket. His sandal was still missing. "Thanks for the tea," he said finally, before teleporting out with a small puff of smoke.

Iruka debated a moment, but admitted defeat and just put the cups in the sink for later.

He had an early day tomorrow.

**The End**


End file.
